


Nightmares

by beware_of_you



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gay, I miss her ass, I miss my WITCHES, angstyTM, like always, mallory is an angel, perhaps I'm trash, smol misty, softTM cordelia, supremeTM delia, this is kinda gay guys, what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_you/pseuds/beware_of_you
Summary: misty's having nightmares after she comes back from hell and cordelia helps her through themTM





	1. Misty's Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> i just miss the gays so much 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway I was going to do this as one big one shot with Misty AND Cordelia's nightmares but then I would have lost motivation or ended up hating myself for how i wrote it so to make it better for everyone involved, I divided it up into two parts

Of course Misty would have nightmares of Hell, of course.

Cordelia was foolish for ever thinking that the girl that had shown up on the academy's doorstep fourteen days ago was completely fine after spending an entire year reliving her greatest fears over and over again.

Of course Misty wasn't okay.

While the Supreme feels guilty about it now, the once reclusive witch hadn't exactly made it known she was suffering from nightmares. She had appeared as rather relieved to be back in the house (even more so knowing Cordelia was the Supreme); she was as easy going as ever, constantly had some sort of device nearby that was playing Stevie, spent most of her time in the greenhouse, and the plants in there were always in thriving conditions even though Cordelia could never tend to them like she used to (so she assumed Misty had been using her magic).

She never had bags under her eyes, she never seemed to be tired, Queenie never complained about her waking in the middle of the night from the horrible visions that were still very fresh in her memory (in fact, the only thing Queenie ever showed any hint of annoyance over was that the other witch played her music at a distracting volume).

And she never found it weird to find Misty's bed empty when she woke up either— she was awake with the sun, a habit Cordelia supposed she picked up from those months she lived out in the swamps.

Sure, she may have been a little cautious and shy around the new girls in the academy at times, but Cordelia knew the other woman long enough to at least think she could pick up on when she wasn't herself.

Misty seemed to be fine.

Which is why Cordelia feels ten times worse for being so willfully blind when she comes downstairs in the middle of the night and finds the younger witch sitting on the counter, eyes tired and lost as they focus on a kettle brewing across the kitchen. She looks small and frail sitting with her knees up to her chin, her arms wrapped securely around her knees, an oversized hoodie covering up her hands and the hood drawn up to contain her wild curls (the most stubborn ones still spring out from the sides). Her feet dangle off the very edge of the counter and if the moonlight didn't illuminate the shiny trails of tears falling from the girl's cheeks, the Supreme would think that her shoulders were shaking from the effort of holding her legs up.

Cordelia freezes at the scene in front of her, biting down on her lip to contain a sharp breath, her eyes welling up as she studies the other witch, heart breaking just a bit more with each tremble of her shoulders, at every new tear that falls down her face. How could she have been so stupid to think that Misty had come back from perdition completely unaffected?

She goes to open her mouth, to timidly call out to the younger witch, but Misty'd head snaps in her direction before she even attempts to do it. Her eyes are dulled, murky with tears, but her expression is one of a guilty child, like she had just been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

She quickly wipes her face with the back of her sleeves, but she doesn't offer the Supreme a fake smile or go to defend how she feels; she knows she's been caught. "Nobody's usually awake at this hour," she explains softly, her voice hoarse and shaky. "Queenie never hears me sneak out and since she's in LA for her trip now..." She frowns, as if she's considering something before she looks at Cordelia with the same guilty expression. "Did I wake you up?"

The older witch shakes her head once, but she feels too terrible, too guilty herself to talk about why she is downstairs in the middle of the night.

"Misty..." She trails off, biting her lip again. How does she even begin this conversation? "I'm sorry I thought you'd be okay after spending a year down in Hell!" Or, "You act fine, so I never bothered to ever ask if you were really okay." (Which was far from the truth; Cordelia always asked if Misty was okay, and she would always respond with a genuine smile and tell her that everything was fine. And Cordelia believed her because Misty never lied to her, never showed any signs that she wasn't anything but okay, and the Supreme didn't want to coddle her like a helpless child; she was a grown ass woman, and if Misty said she was okay, then she was. But asking Misty obviously wasn't enough and it makes her feel like absolute shit that she hadn't been doing everything she could have been).

She had been back from Hell for two weeks and Cordelia was only finding out now that she wasn't okay; how terrible could she be?

Misty glances over at Cordelia at the sound of her name but glances away just as quickly, sighing softly to herself as she swings off the counter and walks stiffly over to the kettle that's opened so it doesn't make the sharp whistling noise it usually makes when the water inside boils. The steam comes out in continuous cloud, stinging her dry eyes as she pours the water into a mug, her thumb and forefinger delicately pinching the tag out of the way. She turns slightly to look at Cordelia over her shoulder, "Do you want a mug?"

The Supreme just bobs her head once in response.

The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sounds to be heard is the water hitting the bottom of another empty mug and the sound of a spoon hitting against the glass as Misty stirs in a few drops of honey— just the way Cordelia likes it. The younger witch presses the warm mug into the Supreme's chilled palms gently, fingers lingering, hovering there until her superior's grip is firm on the glass.

Cordelia murmurs her thanks and brings the mug up closer to the face. The sharp, bright scent of citrus and mint hits her first, the more mellow scent of ginger root only coming through at the end. She doesn't take a sip yet— the herbs still have to seep— so she just stares into the mug, fingers tugging around the bag by the tag as she tries to think of how to start the conversation.

What she doesn't want to do is ask why Misty didn't come to Zoe, or Queenie, or even to her when she was feeling so low. No, she didn't want to put any of the blame on Misty (she can't even bring herself to blame Queenie; after all, if her trusted council member had suspected anything to be off with her temporary roommate, the first person she would have told would have been Cordelia.)

She doesn't want to ask if the girl had been sleeping either, had even slept since she came back. Not right away anyway. It seemed like a heavy question, one that would make Misty feel defensive if she came out with that one first.

So, instead, all Cordelia can find herself to say is, "I'm sorry."

Misty seems genuinely surprised at this, frowning at the Supreme as she perches back up on the counter, leaving her legs to dangle. "Why are you sorry?" she asks quietly, holding her own mug close.

Cordelia shakes her head again, allowing the tears that had been building up for the last few minutes to escape, to run down her cheek. "I should have known better," she replies bitterly. "I should have known that you weren't okay after being down there for so long. I should have done a better job of checking up on you."

"I didn't want you to worry about me," Misty retorts firmly, but honestly. Her fingers curl tighter around her mug and her jaw clenches. "I didn't want anybody to worry about me; not Zoe, not Queenie and certainly not you. You have more important things to worry about than me— you all do."

The Supreme looks over at her, expression sad and slightly hurt. "Did we make you feel less important by not checking on you?" she squeaks out timidly, voice laced with guilt. She doesn't mean for that question to slip out, but it does anyway.

"Of course not," the younger witch bites back, tone a bit hostile. She bites her tongue when she sees Cordelia wince and she softens a bit, "Of course you don't; I know you think I'm important. You did check on me, and I wanted you to believe I was okay. You're the Supreme; you have more important things to worry about. I never meant for you to see me like this— I didn't want you to."

"You are important to me," Cordelia stresses, worrying her teeth into her bottom lip.

"You have a house full of blossoming witches you have to teach and guide, you oversee the duties of the Council, you travel to visit other covens across the states, go out of your way to help every lost witch find where she belongs; the last thing I wanted you to worry about was little olé me. I'll be fine, Cordelia."

Cordelia's jaw clenches at this, her frown deepening at the lack of the formality before her name that's always there when the younger witch addresses her. It's not something that should have her as worried as she is, but the lacking term has her even more concerned; Misty has never dropped the "Miss" before. "Have you even slept since you came back?"

Misty stirs around her tea for a while, refusing to meet her superior's burning gaze as she ponders her response. Her shoulders slump, and the shake of her head is slight, but not unnoticeable. "I've slept maybe a total of seven hours since I've been back, mostly when Queenie's there. I can't close my eyes without seeing it, smelling it, feeling it," she murmurs quietly, lower lip shaking.

Cordelia softens at her admission. "Have you used your magic since you came back?"

Misty's loose curls sway as she shakes her head, finally taking a sip of her tea.

"Have you been doing this every night since you came back?"

There's a brief pause, and Misty looks like she's wanting to deny this, but she sighs and more tears fall as she nods.

"Then you're not fine, Misty," the Supreme stresses, ducking her head to meet the younger witch's eyes. "Please let me help you, please don't shut me out."

Misty shakes her head quickly, looking down into her mug. She opens her mouth to protest, to remind Cordelia that she isn't so important that she has to worry about her, but the Supreme cuts her off with a sharp, "No." Her mug is pushed back onto the countertop.

Soft and delicate, yet hesitant, fingers gently press against the young witch's covered wrist, applying the slightest amount of pressure so that their eyes meet, Misty's still slightly surprised, but so defeated, and Cordelia's soft and sad, yet firm, honest.

"I knew you for such a short time but I've missed you forever," she begins, her voice low and cracking from her emotions, but she manages to keep the fresh round of tears at bay. "I tried everything, everything in my power to get you back, and all my attempts were futile. I failed you once by making you take the test of the Seven Wonders before you were ready and I will not fail you again." Her voice cracks more, her tears becoming harder to hold back. "I won't be able to forgive myself if I failed you again, especially when I'm right here to help. So please, please stop shutting me out and let me help you heal." The last part comes out shakily, the words falling past her lips as a soft plea.

Misty listens to all of this in shock, expression unreadable as she soaks all of this in. Had she really underestimated how much of an impact she had on the Supreme, how much she meant to her? How many times had Cordelia tried to save her from her personal hell? How many times had she failed?

"Okay," is all she says, is all she's able to choke out past her constricting throat as she chokes back the sobs that want to escape. Her own face is soaked with her tears, eyes stinging in protest as more fall down her face. Her hand is shaky, even a bit more hesitant as she reaches for Cordelia's face after she places her mug down, even more so as she ever so gently wipes her tears away. "Okay, I won't," she repeats softly, nodding to emphasize her response.

Her hand drops from her superior's face, both her hands becoming squished between her own thighs so she's not tempted to reach forward and touch the Supreme again. She won't allow herself to make this situation any worse by being her usual touchy self, especially with Cordelia.

Cordelia's own hand moves back slowly, almost regrettably, and comes back to wipe away her remaining tears. "Okay," she confirms quietly, reaching back for her mug. She's silent for a moment before she softly sighs, "Come on, let's get you back to bed."

Misty shakes her head quickly at this, panic gripping her chest at the suggestion. "I am not going back into that room by myself," she states firmly. "I barely sleep with Queenie less than ten feet away— I'm not going to get any sleeping alone."

"You're staying with me," Cordelia murmurs just as firmly, but then swallows hard and flushes despite the situation. She shifts uncomfortably and frowns at herself, unable to meet Misty's curious gaze. "If that's okay with you," she adds awkwardly, stuttering like a nervous teenager asking someone on a date.

The younger witch softens, her own cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink despite herself, at the thought of sharing space so close with the other woman. "It's fine."  
———  
Misty doesn't make it known that she's having a nightmare; she doesn't flail around in her sleep, she doesn't scream out or cry, she doesn't project the violent images plaguing her brain, she doesn't even whimper or move around in the slightest. The only reason Cordelia can even tell the girl has had a nightmare is from the way she shoots up in the bed, eyes wild and throat constricting as she struggles to contain her wild, erratic breathing.

Her forehead and cupid's bow are covered in a thin sheet of sweat, limbs trembling against the comforter. Her hands find purchase on the creases in the blankets and grip onto them as she struggles to contain her tears.

Cordelia watches from beside her, hand outstretched timidly towards her before she stops, thinking it would be best not to startle her with a touch she's not expecting. Instead, she calls out to her softly. "Misty, it's okay. It's not real," she coos.

The younger blonde whips around in the bed to face the Supreme, eyes mistrusting as they search her frantically, almost as if she expects Cordelia to turn into some kind of demon in front of her very eyes. She blinks once, twice, very hard before she frowns deeply, licking her dry lips nervously. "Cor-" she hiccups, bringing up a shaking hand to wipe away the sweat from under her nose. "Cordelia?" she asks cautiously.

The older blonde nods slowly and bites down on her lip, her hand dropping to the sheets.

Misty swallows hard, her own hand shaking as she reaches out and gently, hesitantly rests it on the Supreme's wrist. Her finger firmly taps the skin there in an irregular pattern, her eyes lightening up the tiniest bit when the skin below her hand doesn't vanish, doesn't turn cold and blue, but remains the same (save for the small red mark that her short nail left there). "You— are you real?"

Cordelia nods again, her voice still soft and soothing. "I'm real, I promise."

The younger blonde looks more vulnerable than the Supreme ever recalls her being before and it leaves her at a loss for words, afraid she'll say something wrong. She watches carefully as Misty trails her fingers up her arm, lets her thumb rest against the pulse point in her wrist (it seems to make the younger witch settle down when she feels the steady beats there, her shoulders becoming less tense at the sensation).

"Can—" she starts, but cuts herself off with her own sniffling. Cordelia watches, waits patiently with her free hand gently resting on her own knee (her other hand remains were it is, letting Misty use her wrist, the slight vibrations there, as something to ground her back to reality). Misty's calloused thumb runs along the blue veins she can just see under the Supreme's skin, follows them slowly and carefully as she tries to speak again.

"Can you hold me?"

The question is squeaked out, barely audible or coherent as a few tears fall from the young witch's cheek at the shame she feels from asking. She refuses to meet Cordelia's gaze after the question leaves her lips, face burning with embarrassment.

But it's an innocent request, one that albeit has the older blonde a bit speechless, but innocent nonetheless.

There's also a feeling it brings up deep within that Cordelia refuses to address at the moment (or ever will, if she can help it). Because the younger witch certainly doesn't need that right now, and no matter how much it makes the Supreme's chest leap at the possible implications of her question like some sort of childish school girl, she refuses to be selfish anymore with her feelings regarding Misty Day.

Misty needs her as a friend right now, someone who she can be this unapologetically vulnerable with without shame, someone who will listen to her and comfort her.

So Cordelia nods, her voice barely a whisper as she speaks, "Of course."

It takes Misty a second for her consent to register, but when it does, she immediately crawls into the older woman's lap and stuffs her face into the crook of her neck. The Supreme doesn't flinch away at the tears that dampen her skin; merely wraps her arms around the other witch's muscular frame. She offers her hand as another anchor to reality, and Misty grabs it tightly, gratefully. Her whole body slacks when their fingers are laced together, palms pressed firmly against each other's.

Cordelia's free hand rubs circles against the younger blonde's back, whispering gentle reassurances into her ear as her breathing starts to even out and her tears start slowing. At some point, the older blonde resorts to singing softly to Misty, offering just a bit more distraction from the dark thoughts that plagued her mind.

The Supreme thinks, knows her singing voice isn't the most soothing thing in the world, but it's enough for the younger witch to calm down to the point where she's no longer crying and she isn't tense anymore. In fact, a few moments later, her body gives into exhaustion and she manages to fall asleep again right there in Cordelia's arms.

The older witch waits in that position for a long time, as if to ensure she won't wake up anytime soon before shifting, laying her back down. Their hands remain interlocked; Misty's grip was tight and Cordelia didn't want to risk waking her just to remove her own hand. She doesn't make a move to lay next to her either, not right away anyway. She just remains in her seated position, watching the younger blonde closely.

Misty looks calmer in her sleep this time around then she did her first attempt; all the worry lines on her face are gone, she's not sweating despite still being in that hoodie in the warm room, her breathing is soft, evened out, limbs relaxed.

The Supreme lets out a soft breath she didn't even know she had been holding, applying the softest, lightest amount of pressure as she squeezes Misty's fingers. "I won't let anything evil come take you away or hurt you ever again, I swear it," she murmurs softly, her throat catching near the end of her promise. "I swear it," she repeats in a softer tone.

She doesn't know how long she stays like that, sitting up in her bed with her fingers locked tightly together with Misty's, watching her sleep almost cautiously waiting for another nightmare to terrorize her. But it never comes and the younger witch sleeps on steadily into the early hours of the morning.

Cordelia's exhaustion finally takes over, her eyes barely able to stay open and her body unable to stay seated any longer. She lays down slowly next to Misty, her eyes falling shut as soon as her head hits the pillow.

When she wakes up, the side of the bed Misty inhabited last night is empty and cold. She sits up quickly and looks around the room, but the younger witch is nowhere to be found. She tries not to panic as she pulls on a robe over her pajamas, telling herself that everything is fine and that the other witch is more than capable of taking care of herself, capable of making her own decisions. Besides, the sun's rays are blinding through the blinds they peak through— she's probably been awake for a few hours.

But she's not entirely okay and relaxed until she sees Misty at the breakfast table, perched between Zoe and Mallory, a witch that had shown up on the academy's doorstep hours before Misty made her return.

Misty seems to be acting like herself, as if she flipped a switch and was a completely different person than she was last night. She's in her usual floral dress, thin black shawl that Stevie gifted her draped around her shoulders with a small cluster of necklaces hanging from her neck, a collection of odd and unique rings adorning her fingers, hair a mass of untamed curls. Her usual makeup is minimal and wild, black eyeliner applied without much care, but still managing to compliment, even enhance, her strong, steely blue eyes, the intense emotion in them.

Even her posture is different; upright and strong, so sure (and her muscular arms being exposed by the sleeveless dress only help add to this illusion that she's stronger than she really is.) Her smile when Zoe talks is dazzling, so real and genuine Cordelia feels a bit dizzy because of how stunning she looks in that moment. It's as if Misty never spent an entire year of her life down in hell, as if she just managed to pass Descensum with flying colors, and barely missed the mark on one of the remaining Wonders.

She looks much more guarded like this, like nothing dark plagues her thoughts and keeps her awake every night.

It's such a complete 180 from how she appeared last night, Cordelia wonders for a second if she imagined everything, even the warmth of Misty's palm against hers, the feeling of her thumb desperately tracking the beats of her heart as they guided her back to reality.

Misty notices her first, aims that dazzling smile in her direction and greets her with her voice so strong, so light and innocent. "Good morning, Miss Cordelia!"

And there it is, that formality that was oh so clearly absent last night, back as if she didn't expose her most vulnerable self to the Supreme just hours before. It slips past her lips just as comfortably as it always does, but before Cordelia can react to it, Zoe and Mallory turn to her. Mallory lifts her hand up slightly, her smile tired, her own "good morning" coming out around a yawn she stifles with the back of her hand.

Zoe is just as perky as ever, smiling warmly, politely at their superior. "Morning, Cordelia." She takes a sip from the coffee mug gripped in her palms, studying the older blonde closely. "You okay?" she asks suddenly with a small frown. "You look lost."

Cordelia resists the urge to look at Misty for answers, because she is lost, confused beyond words at her behavior. Was the younger witch just that good at masking her emotions, or was last night just one long vivid dream?

She realizes with a blink that the three witches in front of her have been staring, waiting for her answer with confused frowns and perplexed looks. So she shakes her head once, offering them all a soft smile. "Good morning, girls." To Zoe, "I'm fine, sorry." Then, before she can be questioned any further, before she can shoot Misty any lost looks, she addresses Mallory. "Long night?"

The youngest witch in the room smiles sheepishly, nodding with another yawn. "You could say that. Late night studying," she elaborates with a distracted hum.

Misty pushes herself from her chair and scrambles to the cabinets, pulling a small box of tea down and tossing it in her direction. "Brew up some of that; it'll perk you right on up," she explains when Mallory looks at the contents questionably. Then, a bit louder, "I'm going out to the greenhouse if anyone needs me for anything."

"Okay," comes Cordelia's soft reply, her expression remaining unreadable until the younger witch passes by her, gently touching her arm. Her touch is confident, and lingers for a few seconds, their eyes locked. While the Supreme's is full of questions, full of curiosity and confusion, Misty's remain bright and unaffected.

Cordelia doesn't even have time to ask the younger blonde anything before her arm is carefully squeezed as a parting gesture and she's gone outside towards the greenhouse. The older blonde watches the door for a few seconds, more lost than she was when she first entered the dining room.

She jumps back in surprise when Zoe touches her shoulder, pressing a warm mug off coffee into her hands. She offers her council member a small, thankful smile. "I'm fine," she assures the young brunette, who's still looking at her with concern. "Really."

"She's okay, you know," Zoe offers quietly, eyes flicking towards the door before they come back to the Supreme. "Really, she's handling being back a lot more than we thought she would. Plus she's great with the new students." At this, both of them turn to Mallory, who's brewing up the tea Misty had handed to her.

"Yeah," Cordelia murmurs distractedly, sighing softly to herself. Perhaps last night had just been one long, very real dream after all. Maybe she was just worried about Misty because that was the type of person she was; too damn caring for her own good at times. Besides, she hadn't exactly been getting the proper amount of sleep she should have been as of late; her sleep deprived brain must have imagined last night.

"Yeah, you're right," she repeats, a bit more sure of herself this time. Her smile towards is genuine this time as she lifts up the coffee mug. "Thank you."

Zoe's own smile is relieved, and all her worries seem to be faded. She nods as a response to her superior, groaning softly when she turns around to look at the clock. "Hey, I hate to rush you, but we both have classes in twenty minutes," she reminds the Supreme, who curses at the realization.

"Thank you, Zoe. See you in class, Mallory," she calls out before she transmutates out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom to get ready for her day.

It seems to drag on, her racing thoughts only making the whole day feel like its dragging at a snail's pace. The more she wants to convince herself last night was just a vivid hallucination, the more she thinks of little things like Misty's tears on her skin, their hands pressed together as they slept, the sight of the younger blonde up against the cabinets in the kitchen with that broken expression.

By the time she's just finishing up covering Queenie's evening Divination course, her head is hurting from the amount of thoughts she has bouncing around in her head. It doesn't help that Misty has been cooped up in the greenhouse all day, avoiding any and all contact with the other women in the main house and, as usual, Cordelia had been too busy with her teaching tasks and other duties to even make an attempt to go out and check on her.

She paces around in front of her door restlessly, internally debating on whether she should go to Queenie and Misty's shared room to check up on her. As she decides to do just that, there's a light, but insistent, rapping on her door. She opens it and there's Misty, eyes just as murky and lost as they were last night, posture just as fragile and defeated.

She's in an oversized t-shirt that hangs loosely around her frame, sleeves long enough to cover up those same muscles that were out in the open earlier on in the day. It almost fits like a dress on her, the end of the fabric hanging loosely past her knees. She can't meet Cordelia's gaze and keeps playing nervously with her fingers, but eventually she asks in a low whisper, "Can I stay in here with you again? Please?"

Again— the word breaks the Supreme's heart more than anything (but she had been right to second guess herself; last night wasn't a dream.)

But she doesn't think on it much as she focuses back on the younger blonde and nods, ushering her into her room and enveloping her in her arms as soon as Misty falls into them. Cordelia might be the shorter of the two, but she's strong enough to hull the now sobbing woman to her bed and set them both down, allowing the younger witch to curl up into her side and cry into her arms until she falls asleep.

There's two versions of Misty, she realizes when she once again finds her bed emptied again the next morning, finding the younger witch once again in the dining room as if nothing happened between them last night.

There's the Misty that she shows to everyone else in the coven; this strong, yet calm and gentle individual that's laughing along with Mallory at the breakfast table. The Misty that has everyone convinced she's better and way more capable than they could have realized after spending a year in Hell. This is the person she wants herself to appear as to everyone, the person that, up until a few nights ago, she appeared as to even Cordelia.

And then there's the Misty thats shown up at her door two nights in a row, always looking more broken, more vulnerable. This Misty is more cautious, always looks smaller than she really is. It's the Misty that she reserves only for Cordelia, will only let her see. The Supreme supposes it's all just because she caught the younger blonde in her vulnerable state to begin with, caught her off guard and had no reason to keep bullshitting around her.

(She also assumes, at least a little bit, this is because the two are close; they've always have been, in a way. Not only were they both the oldest witches in the coven, but even in the beginning, they both have similarities about them: their shared love of botany, their mutual preference for the quiet confines of the greenhouse over the main building, their understanding of each other, how everyone once berated them for their use [or lack of once, in Cordelia's case] of magical abilities, even the way they just seemed to connect.)

Misty showing up at Cordelia's door seems to be almost routine as time goes on (even when Queenie returns from her trip out to the west coast, Cordelia still finds the younger blonde coming to her room), the nightly visits becoming something the older blonde anticipates and dreads at the same time. She doesn't mind Misty coming in at all; no, what she hates is the nightmares that have the younger witch startling awake with panicked eyes and shortened, shaking breath. Each time she jolts awake, Cordelia wishes with every fiber of her being that she could take Misty's pain, her fear and her panic, and transfer it all to herself. The younger blonde had given selflessly her whole life, used her magic only to ever help people in her life and she gets repaid by getting burned, buried alive and now plagued with these god awful dreams that keep her awake most of the night; it's all unbelievably unfair.

But all Cordelia can do is hold her as she sobs and shakes, offer her hand as something the younger witch can squeeze and bring her out of her upsetting thoughts.

But things do eventually start getting better.

This nightly routine has been going on for over a month now, and while Misty still might have her nightmares, Cordelia notices that the younger blonde has slept through a few nights without waking up at all. The Supreme still holds her, still has their fingers laced together no matter what kind of night Misty's having (it gives both of them a sense of comfort and security). There's even times when she wakes up in the mornings that Misty is still there in bed beside her, still in a peaceful slumber.

Even if Cordelia feels a bit selfish for it, she finds herself unable to stop herself from just watching the younger witch like this, in her deep, undisturbed sleep with the first few rays of sunshine just illuminating her expression. Seeing her like this, relaxed and unguarded, is a reminder that she's healing, that Hell's grip on her is slipping away day by day.

She can tell now, with the way Misty's head is curled up on her chest, their clasped hands folded up at her side, that tonight's going to be another night where the younger witch will sleep through: just the way she's all relaxed, her expression content and devoid of any tears (though she still looks small, dressed in that same hoodie from the night Cordelia walked in on her).

It warms the Supreme's heart so much, even makes her a bit excited (it would be the first time Misty had slept multiple nights all the way through since she came back). She even smiles a bit when she feels the younger blonde start playing with her fingers, a smile that's not forced or played for show, but a genuine one.

"Thank you, for helping me," Misty suddenly says quietly, breaking the silence in the room. "Thank you for letting me be like this around you."

Cordelia shakes her head once, giving the other witch's hand a squeeze in response. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do, though," the younger blonde insists. "You're the only person I can ever really be like this around; all..." She pauses as she thinks of the right words she's looking for. "Defenseless and small... vulnerable." She shifts around at the word, frowning a bit; she hated thinking of herself like that, even if it was true at the moment. But she continues on before she thinks on it too much.

"I trust you more than I trust anyone; I think more than I have ever trusted anyone," she says softly, halting her fidgeting and giving the Supreme's fingers a small squeeze.

The older blonde swallows thickly, trying to keep her tears at bay at the sweet words, at how honest they sound. "Of course," is all she's able to respond with, her voice choked up with emotion.

She takes a moment to inhale shakily, tightening her arms around Misty's waist. "I meant it when I said I would never let anything evil take you away again."

"I know," the younger witch murmurs, lifting her head up a bit to look into Cordelia's eyes. "Like I said, I trust you and I believe you." Her eyes are soft, full of nothing but admiration and affection when she adds, "No one's ever told me that before."

"I mean it more than anything I've ever said in my life," the Supreme replies honestly. "I swear it."

Misty smiles, and it's the first real one Cordelia has seen in weeks, one that isn't hiding any dark secrets or disturbed thoughts. "I know," she repeats and, just as softly, she adds, "Good night, Cordelia."

Before the Supreme even has the chance to respond, or even blink, Misty's soft lips press a light, quick kiss to her cheek before her head is back up against the older woman's chest. The other blonde is stunned into silence, cheeks tinged a bit pink.

But the same small smile from earlier returns, and she gives the now sleeping woman in her arms another squeeze. "Goodnight, Misty."


	2. Cordelia's Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE AND IT'S SUPER GAY HERE U GO LESBIANS

Cordelia hasn't been sleeping well (she hasn't been for a while, way before Misty comes back).

Her own nightmares have started months ago... well, she wouldn't have called them nightmares (at least not in the beginning). No, back then it was more of a bad feeling she'd suddenly get, like someone, something evil was coming. At times she felt like a mouse being stalked by a vicious cat; the hairs at the back of her neck constantly stand on end, her arms covered in goosebumps and the feeling of sheer dread and terror is always lingering.

The feeling only intensified the day Misty came back from Hell, but Cordelia knows it wasn't her presence that made her feel this way.

If anything, the feeling only got worse when she saw Mallory in her office (it was almost a feeling of deja vu, like the young witch was someone she once met before.) The Supreme felt bad for assuming there was something... off about the young girl; from the way she performed spells she was supposed to be learning with ease, to the looks she would cast her superior's way at times, like she's scared something horrible will happen to Cordelia at a moment's notice. Even the hug she gave the Supreme on her first day at the academy felt off; it was a hug someone would give to a long lost friend and certainly not to a woman she had just met.

Cordelia doesn't think Mallory is at all malicious; she's a sweet girl with a pure spirit, one whose innocence is only compared with Misty's. No, she isn't at all dangerous. There's just something more to her, the Supreme feels, more below the surface, like she knows something that even Cordelia doesn't.

Yet ever since Mallory arrived at the academy, the nightmares (yes, at this point, that's what they've become) have plagued Cordelia's mind more frequently. She's even felt an aching at her side, a phantom pinch, like there was once a major injury at that site (there never was, not even an internal injury).

She does sleep more than Misty ever did with her horrific dreams, but she often lays awake until the early hours of the morning, mostly getting only a few hours of sleep each night. Before Misty had begun sleeping in her room, she was able to mask her exhaustion with a simple herbal mixture and a quick spell before she really begun her day.

She had also, at one point, been really good at hiding her emotions (not as good as the younger blonde had once been, but good enough that nobody questioned her before). She had learned as early as a young girl that suppression was her greatest tool for dealing with her emotions and her magic. Suppression made Fiona's insults, the sharp sting of her palm against her cheek, and abandonment hurt less and kept her safe from the curious eyes of the public for many years, after all.

She supposed she never managed to master it like Misty had. They both used suppression as their greatest weapons, but Cordelia had never used it as a tool for purely her own survival. But it worked for her in the past, and was working in her favor for a while. She could hide her worries, bury them deep down, and could distract her thoughts with the many duties a Supreme has to deal with.

Now she's finding it hard to even fake a smile around the girls, to tell her council that she's okay and actually mean it (thankfully it's not to the point where Zoe or Queenie have been closely watching her, but she does occasionally catch them casting concerned glances her way.)

It's a struggle for the older blonde, personally; she's the Supreme, god dammit, the one who looks after her coven, not the one that has to be monitored so closely by them. It's almost humiliating; even at her best, she still somehow managed to find a way to screw it up for herself.

Her mother would be so very proud of her. Sometimes, Cordelia can even hear Fiona mocking her in her mind, right after her dreams.

She can see the woman so vividly, smiling smugly at her, lit cigarette dangling from her fingers. She swears she can smell the toxic smoke, feel it burning her nostrils at times.

"Poor Delia's having nightmares," Fiona would mock her, chuckling humorlessly and shaking her head before tapping out her ashes on the floor. "I knew you couldn't handle this, I knew it would be too much for you to handle— look at you, falling apart over the visions coming from your own head."

Another disappointed shake of her head, exhaling smoke in her face. "Even Madison would have done better than you. She wouldn't have let this..." She waves her hand around, "Bullshit get to her head. You're too soft, Delia." Through the cigarette in her mouth, she would always end with, "Should have run off when you had the chance."

Cordelia swears she's going insane.

"Are you okay?"

The older blonde jumps slightly at the sound of Misty's voice, blinking slowly as she focuses on the younger blonde at her side. Those bright blue eyes shine with curiosity, not worry or even concern, and for that the Supreme is thankful. She can't stand that so many people are so worried about her falling apart.

"I'm fine," she assures the younger witch softly, giving her waist a squeeze.

Misty hums distractedly, frowning a bit. "You're all... on edge, like something's about to pounce on you. Your magic is calling like crazy, all wild and out of control," she murmurs, distracting herself by playing with one of the rings on the older blonde's fingers.

"Makes my hair stand on end and my teeth vibrate; you're not okay. Something's wrong, I can tell."

Cordelia doesn't really know how to respond to this, not when Misty is so good at reading her emotions. She can't exactly be defensive; not when the younger witch really hadn't done anything to make her feel defensive in the first place. She doesn't sound worried, even concerned, so biting back with her defenses up would make her feel like a bit of an ass.

All she finds herself saying is, "I'm fine."

Misty sighs a bit at this, sitting up on the bed beside her and releasing herself from the Supreme's grip (although their hands remain clasped). "You're not fine, Cordelia. You've been like this for a while— and at first, I thought it was me, my nightmares but I haven't had them in weeks and you're still..." She trails off and shakes her head, now frowning in concern. "You're not fine," she repeats quietly.

The older blonde's jaw locks at this, sitting up straighter in the bed. "I'm fine, Misty," she says firmly, her voice taking on that signature tone she uses when she's at council meetings, talking with other headmasters of different academies. It's serious and authoritative, leaving no room for argument or discussion.

Misty doesn't mean to, but she rolls her eyes a bit at this, at her tone. "The Supreme voice won't work on me, Delia, not when I can read you like an open book."

The nickname sounds sweeter coming from Misty, more caring and adoring than it ever sounded coming from Fiona. But the older witch still stiffens at her response, nearly pulling her hand from Misty's at the words, but decides against it. It was too mean, too hurtful. She does, however, loosen her grip on the other blonde's fingers. "Misty..." she warns, tries again to use her "Supreme voice" to cut off her worries.

Misty's eyes soften a bit at the loss of the tight grip on her fingers, understanding that she might have come across as a bit rude, a bit too strongly for such a delicate topic. "Hey, I'm sorry. That was mean," she murmurs, gently taking a hold of the Supreme's other hand. "I'm just worried about you."

"Everyone's worried about me," Cordelia mumbles bitterly, refusing to meet Misty's eyes.

"Are we not supposed to be?" the younger blonde asks, clearly confused.

"I'm the Supreme; I'm supposed to be worried for the coven, not the other way around." She deflates a little, her face falling. "I'm useless when I'm like this and I don't want to be— I was for far too long and just when I thought I was finally getting the hang of things..." She trails off and turns her head sharply to the side, biting down on her lip.

"This coven is flourishing under your lead, more than it ever did with Fiona," Misty says softly, rubbing the back of her hands with her thumbs. "You're a great leader, Delia; you always had the makings of one. You're not useless, not in any sense of the word."

"If I let anyone see me like this, putting my emotions first, then I'll be no better than Fiona," Cordelia shoots back a bit more harshly than she intended. "I'm not going to put my thoughts and feelings above the needs of this coven. I'm fine, Misty, please drop it," she finishes, tone wavering on the final words. She can feel tears starting to form in her eyes, and uses that as an excuse to keep her head turned away from the other witch.

"You're nothing like Fiona!" the younger blonde stresses. "Hey, I mean it," she murmurs softly as Cordelia scoffs a bit at her words, seeming to shrink in more on herself. "Look at me, please?"

She's reluctant to do it, but slowly she locks her eyes with Misty's.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" Her hand comes up to caress her face, to gently swipe away single tears as they leak from the Supreme's eyes.

The older blonde's jaw locks slightly at the question. "A woman who's falling apart at the seams, just barely able to hold herself together," she mutters.

Misty stares back at her with her expression just as soft as it's been throughout this entire conversation, if not a bit saddened by Cordelia's self sabotaging comments. She shakes her head once, humming as she swipes her thumb over another tear. "If anything, you're sometimes too stubborn for your own good." Her smile is small and her tone is light, teasing as she tries to water down the tension.

It works; Cordelia can't help but smile a bit back at the younger blonde (it's contagious, she can't help it really).

Misty seems a bit more at ease at this, continuing on in her soft, but serious tone. "I look at you and I see nothing but good; your selflessness, your whole hearted dedication to this coven, the girls. This house never felt safe under Fiona's rule, even when she was gone from it. And then I came in here with Nan and it was like..." She exhales slowly as she tries to think of what to say next.

She breathlessly chuckles, tucking her lip between her teeth, "A breath of fresh air, if I'm honest. This house finally felt safe, welcoming and inviting even, and that's all because of you."

"You're goodness personified," she sums up in a mumble.

Cordelia looks at her adoringly, as if she's the eighth wonder of the world, and for a moment, she truly believes she's everything Misty says she is. The look in the younger blonde's eyes is so convincing, it's hard not to.

But her fear and doubt take over, drowning out all the positive comments, crushing the other witch's heartfelt words.

Her lower lip trembles and her voice cracks, hands trembling in the younger blonde's. "I can't let them see me like this, Misty, not without worrying them. They'll think this place isn't as safe as they thought. I can't..." She trails off and sniffs. "I can't be like this without ruining everyone else's happiness and sense of security."

Misty is quick to take the older witch's smaller frame into her arms, pressing her lips to the top of Cordelia's head in an attempt to comfort her. She waits patiently as she cries silently into her neck, rubbing small circles into the older blonde's side.

After a few moments, she backtracks softly, carefully, voice only slightly muffled against the crown of the Supreme's head. "Okay, okay then, don't tell the others. But please don't shut me out too; we're here for each other remember?"

The younger blonde doesn't get a verbal response, but feels Cordelia's head shift against her lips as she nods.

"I want you to feel like you can trust me to see you like this— it ain't good to keep it all bottled up. I can be your shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to, anything you need. I feel safe around you, and nothing will change that. Nothing. You don't ever have to tell me anything if you don't want to. Just don't push me away when you feel like this—let me in."

A verbal response this time, Cordelia's warm breath making the hairs on the back of Misty's hair stand slightly on end. "I do trust you."

The younger blonde smooths the Supreme's hair back and nods once in response as she places another soft kiss lightly on her forehead. Cordelia reaches out and twines one of her hands with Misty's again, almost instantly relaxing at the feel of the warm, calloused skin of the younger witch's palm.

She feels safe here, with Misty's strong arms wrapped around her so securely, as if she's personally shielding Cordelia from her own nightmares. All her worries and concerns almost vanish at the feel of the younger blonde's lips on her skin, in her hair. She wishes she could freeze time on this moment, even with her uneven breathing and her tears still leaking out onto their skin.

Misty just has her wrapped in her arms so protectively and lovingly. It makes her feel cared for, appreciated and loved so wholesomely. It's been too long, she thinks, that she's felt like this; maybe the only time she's felt this way with anybody. She's never felt so comfortable like this with another person before.

"There you go." Misty's voice is soft, low by her ear and makes little goosebumps appear on her arms at how gentle she sounds. "It's okay, let it out. I got you."

The Supreme nuzzles her face further into the younger witch's neck at this, hesitating a moment before she gently presses a kiss against her pulse point. Misty's arms tighten around her slightly at this, repeating in a tone no louder than a whisper, "I got you."

They sit like this for a while, Misty gently rubbing circles into Cordelia's side and whispering reassurances to her as the tears slow and eventually stop. It's quiet for a while, and the younger blonde wonders if the woman in her arms fell asleep when...

"Misty?"

She hums in response to her name, her hand moving from the Supreme's side up to her hair, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"Do..." Cordelia sighs and shifts in her arms, biting on her lower lip nervously. "Do you think..." She stops again, playing with Misty's fingers anxiously, silently reminding me herself that she can trust the younger blonde— Misty won't judge her. Misty is patient and kind, understanding, and she listens. She doesn't have to be nervous around her.

"Do you feel something off about Mallory?" she finally manages to ask timidly, self consciously. The question sounds stupid and completely insane out loud, but she wonders if her feelings about the young witch are justified.

Instead of judging her, Misty waits for her to elaborate more, finger tips massaging her scalp slowly, carefully.

Cordelia closes her eyes at the feeling, sighing softly against the younger witch's neck. "I don't think there's anything dark or evil about her— just... sometimes it feels off. Like she knows more about us than we do about her," she explains softly.

"Sometimes her magic feels familiar," Misty admits just as quietly. "Like I've come across it before. Each witch has a different aura that makes her magic unique to her and to her alone, I don't really know how to explain it." She shakes her head softly. "Her magic is pure, good, sometimes a bit stronger than I would think a witch at that age would be."

She shrugs carefully, taking into consideration the woman sat comfortably in her arms. "But then again I was sheltered for a long time. My magic never had the time to fully blossom until I was burned for it."

"Do you think I should worry about her?"

Misty blinks slowly and at the question, voice muffled by Cordelia's hair. "Do you think you should worry about her?"

"Not worry," the Supreme backtracks with a small frown. "I just... I want answers, I guess. I don't want to pressure her for answers or scare her off, but I still want to know."

She tucks her lower lip between her teeth and chews on it nervously. "What if I'm wrong about everything I'm feeling?" The realization almost has her in tears again, but Misty's hands gently crass her face and their eyes lock.

"Hey, you're not wrong; I feel something too, remember?" the younger witch reminds the Supreme patiently, rubbing circles on her cheeks with her thumbs. "She'll come talk to you when she's ready, Delia."

Cordelia relaxes at the gesture and at Misty's words— she was right; Mallory would come to her when she was ready.

Only Misty ever see her like this, is the only person Cordelia trusts to see her like this, at her worst. She curls up in the younger blonde's arms every night, allows herself to feel normal for a while. In Misty's arms, she doesn't have to pretend to be strong, doesn't have to lie about her feelings; she can just be vulnerable without shame.

The soft kisses the younger blonde places on her face are as sweet and comforting as her words, and for a while, the gestures make Cordelia forget all about Mallory and the visions she has.

And then Madison Montgomery stumbles through the academy's front door with the young witch trailing behind, smiling at something the movie star says. When she spots Misty and Cordelia in the living room, staring at them both, Mallory freezes and her smile drops, but Madison doesn't miss a beat to spout out her infamous line, "Surprise bitches. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

The platinum blonde had seen better days and her eyes have that same haunted look Misty's had when she first arrived back from hell, but she does her best to look indifferent as she lights up a cigarette with a flick of her wrist. "Supremacy looks good on you, Cordy," she comments casually, as if she came back from a vacation and not from Hell. "Nice to see your taste in fashion has also improved."

"How—" Cordelia starts, standing up shakily with Misty at her side worriedly, looking between the movie star, the young witch that flanked her and the Supreme in confusion and disbelief. Out of all the people she would have expected to come through those doors again, Madison Montgomery was far from her top guesses. But, the older blonde had to admit, seeing the former movie star here in person after over a year made her realize just how much she missed her.

She stumbles forward with Misty trailing behind until they're a few feet away. "How did you—"

Madison shrugs carelessly, tapping her ashes out on the tile. "Glinda the good witch here has some serious cred down in the Underworld," she says, gesturing towards Mallory, who shoots her a quick glare in return. "The voodoo demon owed her some favors."

Around the cigarette in her mouth, she continues, "Don't know why she'd use one of her favors to get me of all people out of retail hell but..." She shrugs and playfully, sweetly pats Mallory's cheek. The young witch is too focused on Cordelia's reaction to react herself, expression blank but her face pales. "It's much appreciated."

The Supreme looks on the edge of tears, but she's more relieved than anything. Misty's rubbing her arm gently, but her gaze had not left Madison. "How—" She starts before...

"What the fuck?"

Zoe's surprised voice cuts Misty off as effectively as the sound of shattering glass when the younger witch dropped her coffee mug on the ground. Beside her, Queenie lets out her own startled, "Oh hell no!" at the sight of the actress.

"Gang's all here," Madison murmurs sarcastically as she looks around at them all (her comment has no venom behind it, none of that former bite her words would normally carry). "How touching—" She's cut off by her own exhale as Cordelia throws her arms around her in a hug.

The movie star tolerates it for a few seconds before she gently pushes on the Supreme's shoulder. "Okay, okay, that's enough. Maybe you forgot I'm not much of a hugger," she mumbles with a small scowl. But a small smile is playing at the corner of her lips at the gesture and she looks a bit more at ease after seeing everybody.

"Tough shit," Cordelia bites back, reluctantly releasing the movie star. "You're back."

"Here in the flesh." The actress peers around the Supreme at Misty. "Swampy," she greets with a small "sup" head bob. She looks like she wants to say more, maybe even comment on how the younger blonde is hanging off Cordelia's arm like she is, but she decides it wouldn't kill her to be a little civil. After all, Misty had brought her back to life at one point; the least Madison feels she can do is not treat her like shit.

Misty gives her a small nod in response (they hadn't really been on good terms when they last saw each other, but figures she can be nice to Madison for Cordelia's sake). "Madi," she replies just as awkwardly. "It's good seeing you back." (And maybe that's not a total lie—Madison was a total pain in the ass but the swamp witch didn't care who it was: no one deserved to spend so long down in Hell.)

The former actress shifts and folds her arms across her chest with a stiff nod as she slowly faces Zoe. Her expression softens a bit, and her voice is a bit softer, guilty even, as she addresses the younger brunette. After all, she did leave Zoe for dead by refusing to bring her back during the Seven Wonders. "Hey, Sabrina."

"What the fuck!" is all Zoe exclaims as she tearfully lunges and throws her arms around the short blonde. "What the fuck?"

Queenie laughs once at the scene, at Madison's bewildered expression and the way one of her arms slowly come up and loop around Zoe's back. "Well I'll be damned—someone actually missed your bitch ass." She laughs again when the former star scowls at her and swipes pathetically at her with her other arm.

"Not much of a hugger, huh?" Queenie continues to tease, throwing her hands up in a peaceful gesture when the blonde shoots her a death glare, but her smile is still light and teasing. "Missed you too, Hollywood," she adds, gently patting Madison's shoulder.

"Send me back," is all the actress moans as her face turns bright red, especially when Zoe hides her face in her chest.

Misty and Cordelia watch the scene in front of them with confused and unreadable expressions [respectfully], when the Supreme's gaze is drawn towards Mallory sneaking off towards the steps. Misty briefly turns when Cordelia releases herself from her grip, but her focus and attention is drawn back to the three witches in front of her.

"Mallory."

And though her voice is low and sweet and the Supreme's fingertips are just grazing her arm, the younger witch tenses up. Her eyes are full of worry and concern, as if she did something she wasn't supposed to do.

Cordelia's expression softens, but her tone is sincere when she whispers, "Thank you," to the young witch.

Mallory relaxes at this, own expression going soft as she stares back at the Supreme and manages the tiniest of smiles before she shrugs slightly, as if to say it was no big deal, before heading up the stairs.  
———  
The Supreme retreats to her office soon after the unexpected reunion, locking herself away and trying to distract her thoughts by grading papers. However, it proves futile; she's been staring at the same scratchy, handwritten sentence for around ten minutes now. There's just too many other things going on in her head: Madison's return, Mallory, what Madison said, Misty.

The younger blonde had stayed with the Supreme in the living room when everyone else had dispersed, offering Cordelia the reassurance of just being there for her, being the only person that understood the magnitude of what she was thinking. But instead of accepting her understanding and patience, her warm embrace, the peck on the cheek, she had moved away and retreated like a coward, making some excuse to hole herself in the office alone.

Cordelia has no idea if everything else was just too much, too overwhelming at the time for her, but she does know that her feelings for Misty Day have only increased each and every day. She doesn't know what to call their relationship; they cuddle and Misty kisses her head, her cheek sometimes, but the gestures always seem so reserved, cautious. Cordelia lets herself be so vulnerable around the young witch, something she couldn't even do with Hank, that sorry excuse of a man.

It's almost like they're just there, on the verge of becoming something more than what they are, but they're both too anxious to make the first move. Too afraid that whatever they do next could ruin what they already have. So they never dare to go past holding hands and sharing kisses that are smack dab on the border of "friendly" and "intimate".

It scares Cordelia, she would venture to say even more than the visions, the thousands upon thousands of answers that tell what exactly Mallory is, what she's capable of. Misty's friendship, her patience, her understanding, the white, warm light that always seems to surround her is the only reliable, stable thing in the Supreme's life right now. No, scratch that, Misty is the one stable thing to ever come into her life, the one person the older blonde completely trusts with everything.

It nearly killed her when Misty turned to dust in her arms so long ago; she honestly doesn't know if she could live with herself if she fucked up with the younger witch now. Even thinking about Misty being back at the academy physically, but emotionally so far away from Cordelia because of her stupidity and selfishness has her chest constricting painfully, has her eyes burning with tears.

She wonders if that would somehow feel worse than knowing she could never do anything to release Misty from her eternal punishment (before she came back).

Her attention is drawn to the door, the magic she feels from the witch behind it. She sits up straighter in her chair, pushing her thoughts and emotions deep down before lifting her hand and cracking open the door slightly with her own magic, wordlessly allowing entry.

Mallory pokes her head in, fingers wrapped hesitantly around the door, the multiple rings she wears making an audible sound as they collide with the wood. She looks cautious, and her nerves are strong enough that Cordelia feels them, pinpricks of energy that leaves her arms tingling. "Can I-" she trails off, biting down on her lower lip nervously.

The Supreme clears her throat and stands, nodding her head and smoothing out the front of her dress. "Of course. Come in, Mallory." She glides over to the table at the side of the room, hand resting on the porcelain of a small tea pot. Turning her head to the side slightly, she lifts up the object in suggestion, and Mallory nods slowly, thankfully as she stiffly sits down in front of Cordelia's desk.

"Sugar, honey?" the older witch offers without looking back at the girl.

"No, thank you."

Cordelia sets the mug of plain chamomile tea in front of the girl, her own hands grasping a mug with a spoon still inside from stirring honey in. The metal utensil hitting the glass is the only noise that fills the room for a while, the tension between them thick.

The Supreme sighs softly, her shoulders slumping forward. She doesn't want to make this awkward, or accuse Mallory of anything deceitful or malicious. She sees so much of Misty in the young witch in front of her— from the way she's dressed, the many rings that adorn her fingers (though far fewer than Misty), to the way the girl seems to want to do nothing but good and only gives, never asking for anything in return.

Perhaps it's this comparison, their similarities that makes Cordelia want to tell the young witch everything, but she starts out with, "I don't want you to think you're in trouble, or that we have any reason to be afraid of you. You've done a great service for this coven by bringing one of our fallen sisters back to us."

Mallory shrugs nonchalantly, timidly sipping at her own tea. "She didn't deserve to be down there. No one does."

"I'll admit, I did try to get her back—and Misty, but I never could do what you were able to do." She doesn't say it out loud, but the line "which means you are one hot shit witch" plays through her head like an old soundtrack, words she's recited only once before to Zoe so long ago.

She clears her throat and focuses on a portrait of Myrtle Snow that hangs in her office, on much different than the one hanging before the grand staircase of the academy. She wishes, not for the first time, that her beloved advisor and stand in mother figure were here to help guide her, help her ask the right questions and get her shit together.

"I could sense something... unique... about you from the first day you walked into the academy," she continues, eyes ripping away from the painting before she becomes emotional. "Something familiar, although I could never figure out what, or why. And then I started to get visions..."

Her grip on her mug visibly tightens, and she wishes Misty were here to hold her hand, give her some sort of reassurance to continue, but she soldiers on. "It's always the same vision. There's a boy, a man, but not really. He's got this wavy blonde hair and these piercing blue eyes—he's quite beautiful, but there's always something off about him."

Mallory's eyes flash with something resembling resentment and recognition, jaw clenched as she listens.

"And then he turns into some... terrible beast, and he kills all my girls, every single one of them. There's never anything I can do to stop him, nothing."

Her exhale is shaky and her eyes are burning with the threat of tears, but she quickly takes a large gulp of tea to stop herself before looking over at Mallory. "I'm not saying you're someone this coven needs to fear, but you know more than you let on, and I want to able to fully trust you, Mallory."

"His name was Michael," the young witch says softly, but her tone laced with hatred, disgust. "Was," she emphasizes firmly. "I made sure he couldn't hurt anyone ever again."

"How?"

"It's a long story," Mallory murmurs, the edge in her voice gone. She seems almost relaxed now, almost relieved to finally get whatever this is off her chest.

Cordelia nods in understanding, pushing the essays she was grading to the side. "I have time."

The young witch takes her time, downs the rest of her tea and slides the cup around between her hands on the Supreme's desk, refusing eye contact as she starts. She tells Cordelia everything, everything. From the very first time she walked through the academy's doorstep, to the Hawthorne school, to the god damn apocalypse, and up until the Supreme's selfless act of sacrifice so Mallory could rise.

She pauses after this, the cup far gone still between her hands, which now rest palm side down on the desk. She knows this is all so much to take in, so she waits a minute or two before continuing. "I went back in time to stop Michael, to kill him before he ever had the chance to discover any potential."

When she finally looks up at the Supreme, her eyes are hard, remorseless. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant protecting all of you for good. You're the only family I've ever known, the only ones to accept me with open arms. What he did to you guys before— he got what he deserved."

Her expression softens once more, and that hard tone is gone from her voice as she finishes. "I guess nobody liked him much, not even the demons of the underworld. They thought he was pathetic, too confused, too misguided to lead them to destruction. I honestly couldn't say who was more glad to see him gone: me or the voodoo demon. He said he owed me for my service, and so I used those favors to bring back Misty and Madison from Hell. Having you all happy, alive and safe again is more than what I could have asked for."

It's silent for a long time after the young witch is done talking, Cordelia looking at her with so much pride, relief and admiration. Tempus Infinituum was a feat so difficult, it's mere existence had been chalked up as a myth. Yet Mallory was here in front of her, living proof that it not only existed, but was performed and enacted for such a selfless, righteous reason.

How many other witches in Cordelia's lifetime could say that they not only performed the spell, but used it to go back in time to defeat the god damn antichrist?

The whole coven could have been indebted the witch in front of her for much, much more than the Supreme could even put into words. Yet, all the soft spoken, powerful yet caring young witch wanted out of this was for her family to be safe again. The older witch feels her heart swell with pride and admiration for her humble, selfless request.

Mallory must sense her emotions or hear her thoughts, because the young witch eyes the Supreme with a kind and grateful gaze. "You all risked so much to keep me safe, the least I could do was repay you all for that."

"I-" Cordelia breathes out, shakes her head slowly and swallowing thickly as she looks over at the young witch. "I don't know what to say, how to thank you for all you've done for me, for this coven."

Mallory is quick to shake her head, sitting up in her chair and smiling softly, shyly. "You don't have to say anything, to thank me. That's not why I did any of this. Like I said, it's all worth it to see everyone back here, alive and safe."

The older witch doesn't say anything as she crosses over and gives Mallory a tight thankful hug. The young witch only pauses from the initial surprise, but reciprocates quickly, truly relaxed and content since she arrived back at the academy, glad that she no longer has to hide her past from the woman she looks up to as much as her sister witches do.

"Thank you," Cordelia whispers as she pulls away from the hug, the gentle, motherly kiss she leaves on the top of Mallory's head a parting thanks. "For telling me," she clarifies out loud for   
the young witch's sake, but they both know her thanks goes much deeper, means much more.

Mallory's smile is genuine, soft as she pulls away from the Supreme, bobbing her head once. She steps away, clearing her throat. "I'd better go. I told Coco I'd help her with her Divination homework."

Cordelia nods in understanding, "Of course. Thank you for your time, Mallory."

She feels lighter, more relieved with all the new information she just learned. So many of the questions that were constantly swirling around her head had been answered, her visions explained. So many things made sense now, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't glad she wasn't losing her mind and going insane.

"Miss Cordelia?"

Cordelia looks up at Mallory, who's paused at the door, looking slightly hesitant at what she's about to say. "Yes?"

"I know it's none of my business, and I might be overstepping my boundaries here, but I think you should go for it with Misty."

The Supreme's throat goes dry at this. "What do you mean?"

"Back in the other timeline, she was the only one you would constantly talk about and bring up, even if you didn't mean to. Once you realized Michael's potential, you didn't hesitate to ask him to bring her back. It left you devastated when you thought Michael had failed to bring her back, when you had to send her away with Stevie. She made you really happy, and that hasn't changed."

The Supreme stares at the young witch in surprise, opening her mouth to maybe defend herself, to deny everything Mallory was saying, but she beats the older witch to it. "You guys aren't as subtle as you think; you make eyes at all the time and act different when you're around each other. Misty's happy around you too; she's different than she used to be. Like she's all there, all complete when she's around you."

Cordelia slumps in defeat, biting down on her lip. "I don't want to lose what we have for my own selfish desires. I just got her back; it would kill me if I lost her all over again."

Mallory's tone is soft, honest when she next speaks. "She looks at you like you like you're her whole world, she wouldn't let you go that easily."

"What should I do?"

The young witch shrugs gently, but her eyes are knowing. "Do what makes you both happy. Personally, though, I'm rooting for you both and think you should go for it." She opens the door, tiptoeing around the frame and peeking behind her, giving the Supreme a soft, assuring smile. "Goodnight, Miss Cordelia."

Cordelia watches the door even after Mallory leaves, her own parting "goodnight" stuck in her throat. The young really had known way more than she had ever let on.

Perhaps she had been more than correct when she had called Mallory an "exceptional young witch" the first day she arrived on the academy's doorstep.   
———  
She's timid when she makes her way to her room, feeling shameful and small as she cracks open the door to find Misty perched on her bed, hair still wet from the shower, long t-shirt slightly damp from being thrown on before she was completely dry, and a worn book full of short, random poems clasped in her hands. She peaks up at the sound of the door and shoots Cordelia a smile that she certainly feels like she doesn't deserve, not after running away like an asshole earlier.

The younger blonde sets down the book on the bedside table and wordlessly opens her arms, raising an eyebrow in question.

Cordelia doesn't want to let herself have this so easily, to have Misty's forgiveness without even apologizing, but she can't help herself from walking over and tucking herself into the young witch's embrace. Her eyes close automatically at the feel of Misty's natural warmth, of the underlying earthy smell that always seems to cling to her like its a part of her. "I pushed you away earlier like a coward, the last thing I deserve is your understanding. I'm sorry."

Misty chest vibrates with a light hun, her fingers easily and almost automatically lacing with the Supreme's. "Things were overwhelming for you, I understand. You needed some time and that's okay. Besides, you're here now, aren't you? You didn't do anything wrong."

She feels Misty's lips brush her hair, just at the top of her head, and it makes her curl herself further into the taller woman, grip tightening on her fingers. "You're too hard on yourself, Delia. You're allowed to feel things."

"Okay," is all the older witch manages to squeak out, all she can find to say. But the guilt she felt is gone.

But Misty seems to find her answer appropriate, because Cordelia feels her smile into her hair and gently, reassuringly give her waist a light squeeze.

They sit like that for a few more minutes, simply enjoying being in the other's presence, in each other's company. Before she gets too comfortable, though, Cordelia peels herself away from Misty's embrace to get herself ready for bed. She doesn't take too long; just washes her face free of makeup and slipping on a worn t-shirt of her own.

As she steps out of the bathroom, she catches Misty's soft grin, amused expression that says, "Hey, we match." and it makes her cheeks flush like a shy teenager's. It's only darkened by the younger witch's gentle, amused chuckle as she slips back into the bed, back into Misty's embrace.

The younger blonde lifts up the Supreme's hand and gently, carefully removes each of her rings, leaves a soft kiss on each knuckle after. And, even if Cordelia only wears two rings herself and the action is so small, it's also so intimate, has her gently biting her lip and her heart beat against her ribcage nervously.

Misty removes her own rings, setting them all down in a small pile on the table next to the book before once again taking the older witch into her arms again. "You seem more relaxed and your magic is all mellowed out," she comments softly.

Cordelia almost laughs at the irony of the comment; she had never felt more nervous in her entire life than she was right now, the multiple scenarios racing through her mind only adding to those nerves. But she supposed the way her emotions reacted had nothing to do with her magic, that her magic only responded to potentially dangerous situations or feelings and that maybe that part of her is calm, completely unaffected by what she feels. So she shrugs, trying to be as casual as she can be in her current position. "I finally got to talk to Mallory about everything."

She finds Misty's hand and laces their fingers together instinctively, and maybe it doesn't help with her nerves, with her thoughts, but she feels some sense of calm with the younger blonde's palm pressed against her's. "Well, that's good. I'm glad you finally figured things out."

They shift a bit before Cordelia can comment, squeaking as she grips onto Misty's arms as the younger blonde lifts her and lays them both down. She seems pleased with herself as they face each other, one of her hands resting on the Supreme's hip with a soft smile, gently rubbing circles against the bump of the bone just under her skin.

Cordelia won't say it out loud, but she thinks this is her favorite position, laying with Misty and facing her like this, their laced hands resting between them and their free hands resting on whatever they please. After the initial shock, the older blonde finds her own hand coming up and lightly playing with the younger woman's wet curls, nerves be damned. She can't help it, especially not when Misty's eyes close and an appreciative hum leaves her lips at the feeling.

It's peaceful, calm being like this, Cordelia's nerves ebbing away at each pass of Misty's thumb against her hip. She almost closes her eyes at the feeling, but ops to instead look at the woman in her bed with complete admiration. She has no idea what she could have done in her life to be rewarded like this, with the ethereal woman mere inches away, wrapping her up in her arms.

She thinks she could live a hundred of her lives, and still nothing she does, or will ever do feels enough to deserve Misty Day, her sacrifice from another life put aside. (Though, if she really wanted to think on it, she's sure she'd do it if it cane down to it, if it meant protecting her girls from evil, but, she digresses.)

"Misty?"

Warm blue eyes meet hers after the younger witch slowly blinks, readjusting to the low lighting in the room. "Hmm?" she hums.

Cordelia's mouth goes dry as soon as the other woman's eyes meet hers. All that's running through her head, all she wants to blurt out is, "kiss me", or grab the worn collar of the t-shirt the younger blonde is wearing and smash their lips together. Instead, she settles for, "Do you still have nightmares? About..." She can't bring herself to finish her question, but Misty knows what she's asking.

Chewing on her bottom lip, the younger witch pauses, thumb stilling just at the junction of the Supreme's hip. If she really tries hard enough, she can still see the place. It was always an attack on her senses: the fluorescent lights burned her eyes, the sweet, sickly chemical smell of formaldehyde stings her nose, the fumes flood her mouth with the taste of decay, the sounds of her own screaming and the frog's pain hurt her ears and left them constantly ringing. It was always so cold, everything about that place was cold (which Misty thought was ironic considering she was raised to believed Hell was a constant, burning inferno). But all this feels like it happened in another life, the memories of that awful place seeming to fade as soon as Cordelia found her that night in the kitchen.

"No," she answers truthfully, now reaching up to tuck a stubborn stand of Cordelia's hair behind her ears. "Ever since you found me, I've been thinking of that place less and less. Why would I ever want to think of anything when you're right here?" Her tone is low, full of emotion, but she's completely serious, more than she ever has been before. "You've healed me, Cordelia."

"Misty..." the older blonde's voice cracks and her eyes are full of tears threatening to spill. Her hand rests up on the younger girl's cheek, thumb brushing across her cheek and chin gently.

"Too much?"

The Supreme shakes her head slightly and finally leans in, finally kisses Misty Day. It's more of a peck, a timid kiss to test the waters, to give the younger witch a chance to initiate the next move. And she does, gently cupping Cordelia's neck as she leans down. Their noses bump together softly, lips brushing over each other's hesitantly until Misty finally takes the lead and kisses her for good.

It's so soft, so gentle and innocent it almost brings tears to the older woman's eyes. She feels nothing but overwhelming love for the woman in front of her, feels the love radiating from her like a warm glow.

"I love you." It's gasped out softly, her breath fanning over Misty's lips between kisses. And maybe the admission is a long time coming, but she swears she's never felt more honest, more truthful uttering those three words than she does now.

"I've loved you since that day in the greenhouse," Misty confesses breathlessly, sneaking in a few more tiny kisses before she pulls away.

"I should have told you a while ago," Cordelia admits, thumb gently swiping over the younger blonde's lower lip. "I was afraid I would lose you if I said anything."

Misty's arm falls to her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," she promises as she places a kiss on the Supreme's temple. "You have me," she assures her softly as the older witch curls back into her side.

"I love you," she repeats, and it's just as quiet as the first time, but it still holds the same weight, the same truth behind it.

"I love you," the younger witch murmurs back, placing a kiss to the back of Cordelia's neck. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi it took me forever to get this done sorry about that but also it's really good I think so enjoy


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